Rumors
by aliasfluffyone
Summary: A package, a letter and a newspaper article have two former outlaws talking. January 1909


Disclaimer: Alias Smith and Jones does not belong to me. This is fan fiction, not for profit.

Any references to people, places, businesses, etc. are entirely fictitious.

A/N – story presumes the details on the wanted posters are not entirely accurate. Story exists in the same No Amnesty - Smith and Jones story verse as previous stories.

Rumors

A package, a letter and a newspaper article have two former outlaws talking. January 1909

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Heyes glanced towards the aspens. Nerves jangled an alarm. What had he heard? The snow laden branches glistened in the wan moonlight. Nestled against the ridge, the former outlaw could barely make out the silhouette of his nearby home. He arched his back, releasing the built up tension above his hips. The gut-wrenching news in the afternoon paper had left him jittery, but no one at dinner had mentioned the article.

"Do you want coffee?"

The soft spoken question made Heyes jump. The agitated man looked back over his shoulder. Behind him, his calm partner stood in the now open doorway. Light from the cozy living room streamed through leaving Kid's face in the shadows. Kid held a large metal coffee pot.

"No," Heyes shook his head. He plucked the cigars from his coat pocket and held them up for Kid to see. The slender man reached for the nearest rocking chair. "All I want now is to sit down and relax."

Kid returned in a moment without the coffee pot. The well-built man stepped out on the porch. The front door of Kid's home clicked shut, effectively shutting out the sounds of gentle laughter and murmured words from their families inside. The sudden stillness was a welcome relief. Almost stillness. There was that noise again.

"Was that a hoot owl?" A fine boned hand gestured towards the trees. "I thought I heard something rustling."

"How could you hear anything over the commotion inside?" chuckled Kid.

Heyes looked closely at his partner. Kid's tone was cheerful, carefree even. His cousin probably hadn't seen the paper yet. Just as well.

"For a while there it was like Christmas morning all over again," agreed the strategist.

"I was beginnin' to wonder if we'd ever get supper," Kid nodded with a wry grin on his face. "The girls are still going on about the presents in that box Eliza sent from New York."

His partner's mild remark brought a real smile to Heyes' face. He had managed to forget the newspaper article in all the excitement of opening the package from Kid's oldest daughter before dinner. It wasn't until Heyes stepped outside on the porch alone, in the gloom, that he'd let his worrisome thoughts return.

"Arthur too," added Heyes referring to his son. "He really likes the Kipling book Eliza sent."

"So do the girls, good thing he's reading it out loud."

The other porch rocker creaked as Kid sank into its familiar curved seat to Heyes' right. The sturdy man leaned back and placed his booted feet on the railing and stretched with a sigh of contentment. Heyes' snipped off the tip of the cigar, tucked his penknife away and held the dark hand rolled tobacco out.

"And a little after dinner treat," offered Heyes.

Kid reached out for the cigar. The curly haired man held the tobacco beneath his nostrils, closed his eyes and sniffed.

"One of the benefits of Eliza going to school so far away," murmured Kid.

"Oscuro," nodded Heyes in appreciation. He admired the dark brown wrapper of the other trimmed cigar still in his hand. "Don't think we've ever tried one of these before."

Heyes clamped his teeth against the cigar, determined to enjoy himself. Dexterous fingers finagled a wooden match from the box in his coat pocket. He scraped the matchstick against the railing. Flame flared. The older Kansan cupped his hand around the warmth, puffed gently. As the tip of his cigar glowed red, Heyes shook out the match and leaned towards Kid.

"Some consolation," murmured Kid as he leaned in, his voice suddenly low and raspy.

Heyes watched his partner's face in the dim glow of the cigar. Heavy winter drapes on the windows kept light inside from spilling out onto the porch, but he could tell his partner's jovial smile was gone. He didn't think Kid had seen the afternoon paper. What was his partner upset about?

"I'm not quite sure what you mean," prodded Heyes. "Eliza sent the cigars as a Christmas gift."

"You know this was the second Christmas she didn't come home," sighed Kid. He leaned back in his chair. "I ain't supposed to get upset about that, but now…"

Kid's voice trailed off. The precocious Eliza, Kid and Matt's oldest daughter, was in her fourth year at Women's Medical College. The late Christmas package contained a letter as well as gifts. Heyes puffed on his own cigar for a moment longer. The contents of Eliza's letter had been the main topic of suppertime conversation. He could understand his partner's dismay. The letter arrived only two days after Hannah's acceptance letter to the university in Laramie. For the first time, Heyes was grateful that his son had refused the offer to be promoted a grade last fall. He and Clem had a schoolboy for one more year.

"Eliza won't be coming home this summer neither," finished Kid with another sigh.

Heyes pressed his lips together, thinking how best to help his partner. The headstrong Eliza was a woman grown now, with plans. A rueful smile played across his face. Eliza had better plans than he and Kid had at twenty, but she wasn't going to forget her family. She'd be home soon.

"Eliza's got to do her internship somewhere," reminded Heyes gently. He leaned back in his chair and puffed on the cigar. "Did you want her to stay in New York for three more years?"

"No!" Kid's vehement protest left no doubt about his feelings for the idea of Eliza staying in New York longer. "I wanted her to come back home, do her internship in Thunder Ridge!"

"Doc Abernathy already has an assistant."

Alert eyes watched Kid's shoulders slump for a brief moment, then his partner's jaw jutted out.

"She coulda gone to Porterville," muttered Kid.

"Working for Doc Dinwiddie?" spluttered Heyes. The slender man bolted up right in his chair and glared at his cousin. "Dinwiddie don't hold with women being doctors! Or had you forgotten that little fact?"

"Hadn't forgotten," huffed Kid. He faced his partner. "Just thought I might have a word with the good doctor."

"What were you planning?" demanded Heyes in a sudden panic. Kid opened his mouth to answer, but Heyes lowered his voice and kept on talking. "You can't call a doctor out on the street!"

Kid sat up straight in the chair. In the glow of the cigar, blue eyes looked at Heyes in bewilderment.

"Have you lost your mind?" demanded Kid. "I wasn't planning on calling him out!"

"What were you planning?" prompted Heyes.

"I was gonna remind Dinwiddie that this is the twentieth century."

Heyes ran one hand through his silvered hair in exasperation. Kid thrust his cigar back in his mouth, clamped his teeth down hard, and crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair.

"You can't fight Eliza's battles for her," objected Heyes.

Kid avoided Heyes gaze. Instead the pragmatic man glared off into the cold, dark night in the general direction of Porterville. In the silence before Kid spoke, an owl hooted from the aspens.

"I know."

Kid's soft voice somehow managed to sound both resigned, and hurt. Heyes sucked deeply on his own cigar. He understood the source of Kid's pain. The man of action couldn't do anything to protect Eliza against Dinwiddie's prejudice. The silver tongued genius sighed. Tonight, Heyes would do what he could to help his partner. Doc Dinwiddie would have to wait.

"At least Doctor Blake in Red Rock is willing to train a woman. Eliza will learn more that way," coaxed Heyes. ""You and Matt will visit Uncle Mac next summer, see Eliza and before you know it, she'll be back."

Kid's silence continued. A dark shape lifted from the aspens. The owl soared upwards, flashing dark wings against the back drop of the moon before it disappeared into the starlit sky.

"Texas isn't all that far away," soothed Heyes. "It's not like she moved to some foreign country like Bolivia."

"Bolivia?" repeated Kid.

His partner took the cigar from his mouth, tilted his head sideways and looked directly at Heyes. Dark brown eyes blinked. From the expression on Kid's face, Heyes wondered if Kid had seen the newspaper. Heyes wished he'd named some other country, Mexico, Canada, Australia even. The glib man tried to rectify his mistake.

"Texas is not a foreign county. It became a state before you and I were even born." Heyes realized he was babbling, but words just tumbled out of his mouth. "And it's a lot closer to Wyoming than New York…"

"Did you read that article in the Porterville Press today?" interrupted Kid. "Is that what's been eating you all night?"

Heyes gazed at his partner in surprise. He thought he'd kept his worry hidden. Twenty-five years earlier, if things had been different, that article could have been about Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes. While trying for amnesty, the partners had often talked of getting a stake and going to wait for the amnesty somewhere that the law couldn't find them.

"Heyes, you worry too much!" groused Kid. "They ain't us!"

No, Longabaugh and Cassidy weren't Curry and Heyes, but you couldn't deny the similarities. Whether a man was chased by Pinkerton detectives or Bannerman detectives, you were still running. Hiding in Bolivia or Thunder Ridge was still hiding. Were they ever really safe?

"We're not hiding," stated Kid.

"Huh?" Heyes hadn't realized he'd said those words out loud.

"We're living," added Kid.

"How can you be so calm?" retorted Heyes. "It coulda been us."

"Phht," snorted Kid. "There's differences and you know it!"

"Name one," challenged Heyes.

"We both got sense enough not to fight an army," snapped Kid. "There's other differences too, just think about 'em!"

Heyes thought. As always, Kid's presence at his side calmed him. Of course there were differences, but which one was most important? Kid puffed on his cigar. The fingers of his empty hand drummed softly against the porch railing.

"We would never have gone to Bolivia," blurted out Heyes.

"That's it?" Kid sounded incredulous. "I woulda thought Clem and Matt, Lom, George, Silky, Mac..."

Kid began invoking the names of family and friends that had been a mainstay of their lives. The places they'd been, things they'd done, weren't in Kid's litany. A slow grin spread across Heyes face as Kid kept talking.

"Don't forget the amnesty," interrupted Heyes.

"Phht, the amnesty that wasn't?" Kid frowned. "But yeah, that lady from Boston, she was important too."

"And we still never went to Bolivia," insisted Heyes.

"Couldn't have," retorted Kid. "We never had enough money to get that far away."

Heyes smiled, remembering. They always seemed to be broke back in those days. The mastermind tapped his cigar on the railing's edge and watched the trail of ash fall to the ground. The partners had only met the notorious pair once. The second most famous pair of outlaws in the west had thought that Thunder Ridge might make a good hide out. Heyes negotiated an alternative. For a minute, he'd thought that Butch might not take him up on the offer of a genuine Hannibal Heyes hand drawn map to the secret entrance of the legendary Devil's Hole, but seeing Kid's fast draw put an end to any talk of the newcomers staying in Thunder Ridge. _"That was just a friendly practice draw?" Butch sounded shocked. "I thought Sundance was fast!"_ The leaders of the Wild Bunch were out of Thunder Ridge before noon. Six months later the narrow entrance to Devil's Hole was blown wide open, rechristened Hole in the Wall and not so secret.

"The paper didn't say anything about Etta," prodded Kid.

"Huh?" Heyes shook his head to clear the memories away. "The article was just repeating rumors, there was nothing confirmed."

"Two men having a standoff with the Bolivian army sounded pretty final to me," countered Kid.

Heyes swallowed. The article had sounded pretty final to him too. But more worrisome was Kid's concern for Etta. The last thing he wanted was his partner going off on some blame fool rescue mission looking to save Etta from the Bolivian army.

"We don't even know for sure the article was about them," objected Heyes. "That might be why the paper didn't mention Etta."

"Hmmm," Kid rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're right. It's not like they stayed in Bolivia all the time. They were seen in lots of places, New York, Pennsylvania, folks said they saw Sundance and Etta at the Saint Louis World's Fair, and even in San Francisco a couple years ago."

"Right, just like we went to Santa Marta, but didn't stay there." Heyes pressed his idea forward. "For all we know they're all back in New York, getting their photograph taken and living it up in some fancy hotel, waiting…"

"Waiting?" Kid interrupted.

Heyes swallowed whatever else he'd been going to say. Kid tilted his curly head to one side and looked at his partner quizzically.

"Joshua, do you reckon Butch and Sundance made a deal with the governor?"

-x-x-x-x-x-x-


End file.
